


Rioters

by Evoxine (orphan_account)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 05:37:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17740013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Evoxine
Summary: It is the year 2112 and physical contact has been outlawed.





	Rioters

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted on LJ in **2013**. Apart from a quick read through to fix typos and stuff, **I did not edit much of the fic**.

It is the year 2112 and physical contact has been outlawed.

The common people are entitled to one minute of physical contact a day, the timer to be restarted once the clock hits midnight. Government officials and others of the same tier in social hierarchy had an additional minute. Back in the days, time was never considered to be precious – and now, people would gladly give up all their material belongings just to have more time.

If one surpassed the set limit, they would be punished – every illegal minute equates to a week in jail or a single lash of the whip. Suffice to say, people no longer touched. There are strict social rules set in place that are universally understood. On the street, people are to walk to their right, single file. This then creates two additional paths in-between for people who are in a hurry. Those in a hurry should not weave between bodies; an increase in speed is all that is needed. In buses and trains, seats have full body dividers between them, and passengers are to be seated with hands in laps and crossed ankles. No passengers are allowed to stand.

At home, married couples no longer share beds. Children (limited to two per family) are only conceived due to time grants given out at the time of marriage – these time grants may be saved, but can only be used for reproduction. There are also time grants for sexual activity, and these can be purchased at one's discretion. These grants, however, are expensive, and couples that are willing to buy them are a minority. Apart from these instances, physical contact almost never occurs.

There are no more handshakes in offices, in coffee shops, on the street. No more impulsive hugs, kisses, interlacing of fingers. The allotted minutes are always saved for precious time at home for those with loved ones; but for those without, they soon settle into a life where physical contact is a joy almost completely forgotten in the depths of their minds.

But amidst all the wrists seared with luminescent numbers (counting down in seconds), there is one left unmarred, skin as smooth as the surface of a lake at dawn. At this precise moment, the owner of this left wrist sits curled on a futon, tapered fingers lightly curled around the neck of a beer bottle. His eyes are fixated on the straight lines of pedestrians on the street below, lips curled up derisively.

The intercom on his landline crackles and he glances at it, waiting.

"Mr. Oh," the pleasant voice of his secretary sparks through the speaker. "Your 8:30 is here."

"Send him in," Sehun says, tossing the half-finished bottle into the trash and spraying breath freshener onto his tongue. Shrugging off his shirt, Sehun slowly settles down onto the silk-lined sheets of his bed, just how his client likes him.

 

 

 

  
Exactly 37 minutes later, the front door opens and shuts and Sehun is left stark naked, sitting at the edge of the bed. A stack of money, bills all freshly printed, sits on his desk – payment for his time and touches. Grabbing a robe off the coat rack, Sehun slips it on and knots the cord before picking up the cash. Without bothering to count the number of bills, he keys in the code to his safe and tosses the bundle in. It beeps shut behind him as he turns around.

This service he provides – some sort of an escort service, bluntly put – is his only means of making a living; and many people are willing to pay outrageous amounts for his time and company. He's made enough to last him an entire lifetime and more, but it's all he knows how to do, so he'll keep doing it. A car horn blares outside, a little muffled by the panes of glass separating him from the rest of the world below.

Pressing a button on the phone, he sends his secretary home with a simple _have a good night, see you tomorrow_. He hears her clattering about in the room opposite his, but when the elevator dings, sound is no more. Striding into his bathroom, Sehun turns on his shower and lets the water run as he heads over to the wide sink. The robe slips off broad shoulders and spills into a puddle by curled toes as Sehun stares at his reflection in the mirror.

When steam starts to blur his features in the glass, Sehun exhales and turns away, taking a few long steps across the bedroom-sized bathroom into the shower. Hot drops of water slap against the bare back of his neck, some soaking through light pink strands of hair and ultimately combining to roll down skin stretched taut across a long spine and a wide ribcage.

By the time Sehun shuts off the jet of water and wraps a fluffy towel around his hips, his fingers and toes are wrinkly and every cool surface in the bathroom is fogged and covered with a thin layer of condensation. The clock reads 22:58 and Sehun drags a hand towel through his hair. Grabbing a new pair of boxers out of his walk-in closet, Sehun steps into it and pads out of the room.

Ignoring the bed he was just in a couple of hours ago, Sehun walks into the adjoining room – which he keeps closed whenever a client is over – and crawls into his actual bed, sighing when the covers curl around him and as he sinks the side of his face into a downy pillow. Sleepily grabbing a plush dragon out of the pile by his bedside, Sehun flicks the light switch and closes his eyes against the darkness.

He's well asleep by the time the clock strikes midnight.

 

 

 

  
Many miles away in the outskirts of town, stay a young couple in a small house. With a close to four years age gap, many people assume they're simply roommates or best friends, but there's something much more buried under the friendly smiles and mischievous words.

Luhan works as an accountant in one of the major bank chains while Jongin goes to university and works part-time at the supermarket just a few blocks down from their modest home. They had met at Jongin's workplace and had hit it off almost instantly. A year later sees Jongin moving in with Luhan, and they save up their precious minute every day for a kiss and a brief bout of cuddling.

They've never had the opportunity to do more, because they simply can't afford to buy time grants. But they're content, oddly enough in today's society, to just be with one another, despite the significant space between them whenever they share the couch. They sleep in the same room but on different beds, and when they happen to brush against each other in the morning as they stumble into the bathroom, neither consider it time wasted.

Luhan sends Jongin to the bus stop and bids him goodbye with a declaration of love that Jongin blushes at but returns nonetheless. HIs friends tease him good-naturedly on the bus, and Jongin basks in their words.

An hour later sees Luhan leaving for work – very monotonous work – seated in his trusty desk chair, behind his trusty desk and pads of his fingers poised over his not-so-trusty keyboard. He works 54 hours a week but always makes it home in time to cook dinner (or attempt to, at the very least). On Sundays, they lounge about at home, one splayed out on the floor and one on the carpet, switching ever so often. They'd feed each other ice cream, sometimes cake, and they'll laugh until the sun sets.

They're not unhappy whatsoever; in fact, they're probably a couple of the happiest people in the city. Their lives are simple, considering, and they never would've thought that it might get shaken up one day.

Until Jongin bumps into someone – quite literally – during work.

 

 

 

  
"I'm so sorry!" Jongin exclaims, immediately falling to his knees in order to pick up the customer's scattered goods. Dropping them quickly back into the basket, he straightens and offers the handles to the customer – who hasn't spoken a word since their collision.

"I'm really sorry," Jongin apologises once more.

"That's alright," the customer says, voice a little rough. It contrasted greatly with the smoothness of his skin and lips, Jongin dazedly thinks. Jongin smiles and bows, and the customer continues on his way. As the customer lines up to cash out, Jongin turns and heads towards the employee's break room – he stops halfway when he realises that they had collided. Made physical contact.

Managing to suppress a wail, Jongin lifts his arm and takes a look at his wrist.

He still has his full minute. But that can't be right, Jongin thinks, we most definitely touched. Pausing, Jongin wets his lips before turning and sprinting back towards the checkout area.

The customer's just stepping out of the door, the bag of products safe in his hands when Jongin catches up with him.

"Excuse me," Jongin pants, "I was wondering if your time had –"

"No, it didn't," comes the reply. "Yours didn't either, right?"

"Yeah," Jongin says. "But it doesn't make any sense? We touched, didn't we, when –"

"Yes we did," the customer says, interrupting him once more. "But you touched _me_. That's the difference." The customer inclines his head in farewell and joins the neat line of pedestrians walking down the road. Jongin gapes after him, stunned.

 

 

 

  
A neo-noir psychological thriller film is blaring out of the speakers that are placed an exact metre away from both sides of the widescreen television. Sehun sits on the matching black couch, eyes trained on the screen but not really seeing, feet crossed at the ankles as he slouches just a little. Today is his free day – no clients, no phone calls (he took the receiver off the cradle), no obnoxious sounds that he's always forced to make. It's his secretary's free day too, so it's just Sehun and the actors with their faces plastered across the big screen.

Sehun's gaze slides from the film all the way across to the open dining area where a lone bottle of wine sits on the mahogany table. There's no glass next to it or near it. Thin lips curl into a subtle version of a sneer as Sehun recalls the day he stepped out to purchase that very bottle of wine. The employee at the store had a look of complete incredulity after their minor incident – a look that Sehun's both sick and amused by at the same time.

A woman's severed head flashes across the screen but Sehun remains unfazed. Standing, he strides across the carpeted marble floor and into the kitchen. A half minute later, he emerges with a wine opener in his hands. The cork rolls somewhere under the table not too soon after.

With the swell of the wine glass' bowl sitting comfortably in the palm of his hand, Sehun sinks back into the cushions of the couch and watches through flat eyes as the protagonist fires off five shots in a row into a murder suspect's face.

 

 

 

  
The break room always smells a little like old gym socks mixed with cheap lavender air mist, but Luhan's almost completely immune to the scent. Having been an employee at the bank for over three years, Luhan is able to sink eager teeth into his homemade sandwiches day after day as a good majority of his colleagues grimace and gag every few minutes throughout their lunch break.

Today, Luhan has a ham and egg sandwich in his hands, the crust messily cut off because Jongin had insisted to cut them off today and Luhan was more than willing to coddle him. But it tastes as good as usual and Luhan hums to himself as he polishes one half off and starts on the other. He's in the middle of thinking about what to concoct for dinner when a sliver of the conversation to his right slithers into his ears.

"... that no one loses time?"

Luhan pauses mid-bite and turns to face his colleague.

"What's this?"

A rather pudgy man that Luhan sees around the copier machine almost every hour turns to him eagerly and promptly proceeds to re-recount his story.

"I've heard from someone that there's a man in town that doesn't have a timer. He can touch whoever he wants and he won't receive any repercussions. The best part is? The people he touches won't have any time knocked off their timers either. It's literally the best of both worlds."

Luhan raises an eyebrow and chews around the lump of bread in his mouth.

"You believe that? If that's true, wouldn't the government have gotten rid of him by now?"

The craters in the man's skin seem to deepen as he grins. "Ah, here's where the scandals come in. I've heard that the reason why he's still alive is that a lot of businessmen and women – people high up in the government – go to him for... pleasure."

Luhan chokes on a leaf of lettuce and gulps down half a bottle of water, eyes tearing.

A petite woman across from the table speaks up.

"What's his name?"

The pudgy man shrugs. "I don't know. I'm not surprised though – I'm sure the people who buy his services wouldn't want that information to get around, lest any information falls into the wrong hands."

Balling up the used cling wrap in his hands, Luhan tosses the small ball into the nearby garbage can. It bounces off the rim and topples inside. As he stands, Luhan catches a glimpse of the luminescent numbers pressed into the inside of his wrist. He has 57 seconds remaining for the day.

 

 

 

  
Jongin's head is heavy on Luhan's stomach but Luhan finds the weight to be a comfort rather than a nuisance. There are pillows all over Luhan's lower body – a method to prevent any skin-to-skin contact and yet enable them to be close to one another. Strands of Jongin's hair slide through Luhan's fingers as Luhan toys with them, making sure to avoid brushing against Jongin's scalp. They each have less than ten seconds remaining on their timers, and they usually use that time for goodnight kisses. It's barely past ten, and neither are quite sleepy enough to go to bed.

The news is on, and Luhan knows Jongin isn't paying any attention whatsoever. The news reporter launches into a report about the upcoming elections and suddenly Luhan remembers the pudgy man from the break room over a week ago.

He had forgotten all about the story by the time he got home that night, what with all the customers he had to attend to. The man hadn't brought up the story following that day, and neither had any of his other colleagues. So naturally, it completely slipped from his mind, returning only just when the news reporter talked about politics.

"Hey," Luhan says, shaking his leg and watching Jongin jostle slightly in his lap.

"Mm?"

"Last week, I heard this really interesting piece of... gossip, I guess you could call it."

"Oh yeah?" Jongin turns to face him, a look of mild interest in his eyes. "What's it about?"

"It was about this one person who didn't have a timer and was able to touch anyone whenever he wanted to. And the people he touched wouldn't be affected either. Apparently, a ton of government officials take advantage of that for physical pleasures and stuff so that's why he's not dead yet. I mean, I don't know how believable it is, because I didn't get a name or anything –"

Jongin's silent, but his eyes seem to scream sentences.

"What?" Luhan asks, curious.

"That man," Jongin says, throat suddenly sandpapery, "I think I've met him.

"You've _what?_ "

"Yeah. It was a while ago. I was working and I bumped into him by mistake. Sent all his goods flying everywhere. It was full-on bodily contact. I didn't think about the timers until he was a foot out of the store. I checked my timer and I wasn't missing a single second. I knew I should have because I know there was skin contact. So I went after him and asked if his timer changed. He knew mine didn't change and he said that it was because I touched him. I didn't know what to think of that; what you just told me explains everything though."

Luhan forces his jaw to snap shut.

"He doesn't have a timer," Luhan says, as if in need of convincing. "No one's affected when they touch him? How is that even possible?"

Jongin shrugs, the movement stilted in his position. "Who knows? All we can be sure of is that he's a lucky man. A very lucky man."

 

 

 

  
Sehun absolutely loathes his life.

There's no substance to it whatsoever – it's a daily routine of waking, washing up, having breakfast, and checking in with his secretary on his schedule for the day. His earliest client will always be right before lunch, so after he or she is gone, Sehun can scarf food down in order to push the disgust bubbling in the pit of his stomach away. On typical days he'll entertain a maximum of three clients, but there are always extenuating circumstances, of course. His busiest day consisted of seven clients – something he swore heatedly to himself in front of his full-length mirror at the end of the day that he'll never do ever again.

After his last client leaves, Sehun will take a long shower (probably his third for the day), spending ages drenching his body scrubber in soap and running it over his skin until it turns pink and just a little tender. The steam will collide almost painfully with his skin when he steps out of the shower and pulls his towel tight around himself.

With soft and comfortable pyjamas hanging from hips and broad shoulders, Sehun will crawl into his personal bed and secure the covers tight around his neck. The television hung up across the room will always be playing an episode of an old crime show, and Sehun will watch intently until his eyelids grow heavy and he dozes off underneath warm, dim, yellow lights.

The only times Sehun ever leaves his room is when he needs something from the store. Technically, he could order his secretary to get whatever he wants for him, but Sehun rather enjoys that brief time out of his rich confinement. Occasionally, he'll take the long route, curving around houses that are spaced rather far apart, crossing the oddly wide bridge and walking down the barren hill that's lacking any discernible paths. Other times he'll take the short route where the majority of people are, walking in their straight lines, a few spaces apart from the person in front of them and behind them. Sehun will fall into step as if he were normal, feet moving automatically.

It's unexplainable – ever so often, Sehun will be overcome with a sense of envy. He envies how everyone has a certain sense of urgency coupled strangely with a sense of caution, much like how it would seem if shots of adrenaline were to be injected into someone who lives amongst beasts of the jungle.

Sehun's trips out to the store usually happen once a week, and he always goes to buy things that aren't really necessary – wine, junk food, movies that he can easily buy online. Of course, sometimes he does buy necessities, but those times are rare. More often than not he'll be in the store just to look for one thing – a reason.

 

 

 

  
Luhan wheels his desk chair over to Baekhyun's desk and waits for his colleague to hang up the phone patiently. The second Baekhyun sets the receiver onto its cradle, Luhan inches a little closer and flattens his palms on the surface of Baekhyun's desk. Baekhyun peers at him with interest.

"I heard something," Luhan begins, and Baekhyun's eyes light up even more. "Apparently there's this one person in town who doesn't have a timer?"

Baekhyun's lips curve into an almost-perfect 'o'.

"I know who you're talking about. His name's Oh Sehun. He doesn't have a timer on and he can touch whoever he wants, whenever he wants with no consequences whatsoever."

Pausing for dramatic effect, Baekhyun proceeds to lean forward conspiratorially. "I assume you've heard of his profession?"

Luhan colours and Baekhyun grins as his suspicions are promptly confirmed.

"If you've heard what I assume you've heard, then yes, what you heard is absolutely correct."

"And it's the reason why he hasn't been prosecuted or removed?"

Baekhyun twirls his pencil twice around the head of his thumb and points the blunt eraser end at Luhan's face. "Correct."

Luhan's about to wheel wordlessly back to his desk when Baekhyun clears his throat and picks residue off the eraser tip. Luhan stills and glances back at his co-worker.

"I heard he's pretty good at what he does. If I ever have enough saved, I just might go to him one day."

 

 

 

  
Luhan ends up being so distracted for the rest of the day that his boss instructs him to stay back and finish his daily report after his shift ends. Making a face, Luhan waves goodbye to Baekhyun and Junmyeon before turning gloomily to his half-finished document plastered across an obnoxiously bright computer screen. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he sends an apologetic text message to Jongin, informing the boy that he'll be late and to not wait for him for dinner.

Mentally willing himself to focus for the next hour or so, Luhan steels his wits and dives into work, manically flipping crisp pages of numbers and letting his fingers run free across the remarkably old keyboard that bangs against the desk with every press of a key due to it missing a tiny little leg in the top right corner.

Fifty-eight minutes later, Luhan cracks his wrists and sits back in satisfaction. His finished report stares back at him. With a few swift clicks, Luhan attaches the report to an email and fires it off to his boss. As soon as the computer dings, Luhan's up, trying to tug his coat on and shut the computer off at the same time. He manages to step out of his cubicle without tripping over the wheels of his chair, and he's on the way home in record time.

As expected, Jongin's clutching a pillow to his growling stomach. Luhan drops his keys down onto the cabinet by the door and eyes the untouched food on the dining table with reproachful eyes.

"Why did you wait for me? You must be starving by now," Luhan says, dropping his briefcase by the couch and sinking down next to Jongin, knees centimetres away from touching.

"No reason," Jongin says, "just wanted to wait for you. Gave me some much-needed time to do homework anyway. But now that you're back – can we _please_ eat?"

Luhan laughs and leans in to give Jongin a peck; a quick press of the lips against warm skin. A single second disappears off the timers on their wrists, but neither really mind. Time spent on each other will never be time wasted, after all.

Jongin chews loudly, mouth full.

Luhan wonders periodically between slurps of lukewarm soup and bites of cold chicken how it would be like to be pressed up against the one boy he loves for hours on end.

 

 

 

Sharply manicured nails screech down the flat plane of Sehun's back as he drives deeper and deeper into her because she likes it that way. The strong scent of expensive salon-grade shampoo seeps into Sehun's nose and he has to hold back occasional gags whenever he inhales. Her grip is relentless, and Sehun lets her hold him as close as she wants; because she likes it that way.

He palms the insides of her thighs – small and the skin just a little dry – and brushes the tips of his fingers along the seam. Rolling his eyes into the crown of her head, Sehun listens as her high-pitched squeals start to hitch and crack between syllables. Then, tugging hard on a chunk of her hair, he thrusts into her just a few more times before releasing into the strawberry flavoured condom she had picked out.

Waiting for her to regain her normal breathing pattern, Sehun pulls out and rolls the condom off, knotting it swiftly before tossing it into the trash can. She purrs, sliding a hand up the faint contours of Sehun's chest and swiping the pad of her index finger along his bottom lip. He lets her do as she pleases because she pays him well; and because she likes it that way.

Twenty minutes later, she's out the door with her mussed hair in a bun and her fur coat draped over her forearm. It's too hot for it, she says. Sehun stares at the closing door, a thin barrier between him and the rest of the world. There's a stack of crisp bills on the pristine glass table just across the room, but no matter how long Sehun stares at the money, he can't conjure up a sliver of satisfaction. Sure, his dick's eternally happy, but what else is?

 

 

 

  
"Psst."

Jongin nearly bites a chunk of his tongue off as he shrieks and chokes on his own spit. Whirring around, he comes face to face with a laughing Luhan – Jongin frowns and chucks a balled up wad of packing paper at Luhan's mouth. He misses and gets Luhan's neck instead.

"What are you doing here?" Jongin asks once he's calmed down.

"I finished my reports early today," Luhan says, resting his weight on the cargo cart. "So I thought I'd drop by and wait for you to finish your shift. We can go home together. It's been a while since we've done that, yeah?"

Jongin smiles stupidly and pushes three boxes of crackers onto the shelf. "Yeah, it really has."

Reaching into the cardboard box, Luhan pulls out a stack of crackers and hands them to Jongin, making sure their fingers don't brush. Jongin takes them, carefully, and nudges them onto the shelf, one by one. They work in companionable silence, every once in a while stopping to smile at the other before heading back to shelving. By the end of the hour, Jongin's cargo cart is empty and he wheels it into the storage room while Luhan waits by an empty cashier till.

"All set," Jongin says, bounding up next to Luhan's side. "Shall we go? Can we get sushi along the way? I haven't –"

Luhan tilts his head curiously. "What's the matter?"

Jongin's eyes had widened past their already wide state, and that's a sight that Luhan rarely sees. He follows Jongin's line of sight, and at the end of it, a soft, angular face swims into his view.

"Who is that?"

Jongin tries to push words past the dryness of his throat and manages to get them stuck at the base of his tongue. Swallowing, he turns to Luhan and tries again.

"That's the guy I was telling you about. The guy with no timer?"

Stunned, Luhan twists around to look at the spot where Oh Sehun was seen last. There's no one there anymore, but as Luhan moves to return his attention to Jongin, he catches a pair of eyes on him by the frozen foods aisle.

It's Sehun, and there's a thick mix of knowing, tiredness, and vulnerability in his gaze. Palpable, so palpable that Luhan baulks and steps towards the exit of the store, gesturing to Jongin behind his back. He steps out onto the sidewalk without a backwards glance. Thankfully, Jongin's too astonished by Sehun's presence in the store to notice Luhan's tumultuous state of mind.

 

 

 

  
For the first time, Sehun leaves the store without buying anything.

For the first time, he returns the very next day and not a week after.

(He tells himself he's found the thing he's been looking for and he needs to get it. He might not succeed in the end, but he's a man of wills.)

 

 

 

  
Sehun makes a beeline for the shelves of alcohol that are snugly tucked away in the back right corner of the store. Grabbing two bottles of his favourite brand of red wine, he navigates around customers and scans the row of checkout counters for the one he wants.

Stepping into line, Sehun watches the teenager in front of him pay for a six-pack of beer. Setting the two bottles of wine down onto the counter, Sehun reaches into his pocket for his wallet. The teenager takes his change, his pack of beer, and leaves without a word.

"Good evening, did you find everything you need–"

 

 

 

  
"Good evening, did you find everything you need–"

Jongin chokes on air and nearly spits in Sehun's face out of shock. Sehun's eyes flick down to Jongin's name-tag, lingers for a couple of seconds, and smoothly returns to Jongin's face.

"I assume you've figured out what I am and what I do," Sehun says, tone casual yet flat.

He receives a wordless nod in response. The scanner beeps as Jongin swipes the barcode of a bottle over the bright red laser. Sehun pays silently, handing a credit card over and keying in his PIN without so much as a glance to the keypad. Jongin attempts to hide part of his face with overgrown bangs as he packs the bottles of wine into a bag.

"You interest me," Sehun says vaguely, each syllable enunciated perfectly. "So does your boyfriend."

Jongin looks up at that, more out of surprise than anything else. A perfectly shaped eyebrow rises just the slightest and a name card is pressed down onto the shiny surface of the countertop.

"My address. Come over any time."

With that, Sehun slips his credit card back into his wallet, picks up his bag of wine, and leaves. The wine bottles clink against each other slightly, but that's all the noise Jongin is able to pick up and register before Sehun is out the door and no longer visible from his station.

The name card sits right next to the scanner, edge parallel to the side of the counter. The surface is pristine, the material of the card glossy. Jongin picks it up and slides it into his back pocket.

 

 

 

  
Sehun's draped across his settee when the intercom buzzes. Static crackles for a brief moment before the saccharine voice of his secretary fills the room.

"Mr. Oh? I've got a young couple here to see you. They don't have a reservation; should I let them in?"

The base of a wine glass meets the surface of a marbled side table as Sehun sits upright.

"Let them in."

 

 

 

  
"Hello," Sehun says amicably, tugging on the sleeves of his worn-in hoodie. His eyes land on Luhan's face.

"What's your name?"

Luhan looks up from where his eyes were trained on the cuffs of Sehun's hoodie and wets his lips.

"Luhan."

The corner of Sehun's mouth quirks but no more words are uttered. Turning, he grabs his glass of wine and drains it. His footsteps are soft against the smooth surface of the flooring as he disappears into the kitchen – the sounds of water and the clinking of glass against a drying rack reaches Jongin and Luhan's ears soon after.

Heavy, invisible cotton balls are forming in Luhan's mouth and Jongin's not exactly better off. They stand shoulder to shoulder, the sleeves of their shirts brushing where their skin can't. Luhan's eyes are focused on how the hem of Sehun's hoodie hits his hipbones, whereas Jongin's busy following the movement of Sehun's hands as he wipes down the counter.

The glow of the lights bounce off marble tiles, hits the curve of Sehun's feet, and Sehun's skin looks even lighter than usual. Jongin chews the inside of his lip.

"Didn't really think you'd come," Sehun says, pulling out a chair by the dining table and settling down on it.

"Really," Luhan utters, the question hidden somewhat in his intentionally flat tone.

"Really," Sehun confirms. "So why'd you come?"

Jongin blinks and looks to Luhan for answers. Luhan frowns, and Sehun laughs.

"It's okay. I know why you're here. It's why every single person I give my card to comes. There's a reason why I'm not in jail – as I'm sure you know."

There's a soft scuffling sound as Jongin shifts his weight from his left foot onto his right.

"So," Sehun continues, brusque. "Ever had sex?"

Jongin colours and Luhan coughs.

"I'll take that as a no. Come, follow me." Rising, Sehun walks around the settee and into his business room. The couple hesitates but ends up following anyway.

"Take a seat," Sehun says, waving to the enormous bed.

When they've lowered themselves onto the mattress, Sehun runs fingers through his hair and speaks up.

"Let's talk business, yes?"

"What business?"

"For all of our sakes, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about," Sehun sighs. "You know very well what you want and what I can provide. Now, we can do this in two ways. I can service each of you individually, or together. What would you like?"

"Why did you give me your card?" Jongin blurts.

Sehun gazes at him curiously. "I figured you two would need my services sooner rather than later. You're both in your primes, you know. It's hard to keep those desires under control for an extended period of time. A minute is worth nothing in terms of intimacy, as I'm sure both of you know." His eyes spark. "And you're both rather cute, I must say. A nice contrast to my usual customers." A drip of acidity hits the last few words of his sentence, and Sehun clears his throat. "So? Decision?"

Jongin seems completely flustered, but Luhan's oddly quiet.

With every pregnant second that ticks by, the ghost of a smile that was originally present on Sehun's lips begins to deepen and spread. By the time Luhan is ready to answer Sehun's question, a full out grin perfectly complements the sharp angles on Sehun's cheekbones.

"Let's do it."

Brusque, to the point, and seeping with absolute need.

 

 

 

  
"Don't be nervous," Luhan whispers into Jongin's ear, lips an inch away and barely parted. "We deserve this."

In response, Jongin digs the blunt of his nails into silk sheets and stays silent. Luhan gives him a chaste kiss on the cheek and a single second slides off their timers. Jongin shivers.

Across the room, Sehun's busy pulling out supplies. He picks up hushed words and momentarily wonders what it's like to have another human being concerned over his wills and won'ts. Lip curling, he tugs off his hoodie and tosses it onto a lounge chair that's never used and always clean.

When he turns to face the pair, he feels Jongin's eyes hot on his face.

"Are you okay with this?" Sehun asks. The words and question feel foreign on his tongue, and it doesn't go unnoticed by him. Sehun coughs and scratches the edge of his jaw by means of a distraction.

"Yeah," Jongin replies. "I'm okay."

"Who's older?"

Luhan raises a finger.

"Hm. Alright. Come here," Sehun says, and gestures for Luhan to head up higher on the bed. Hesitation and apprehension follow every movement of every limb, but Luhan does as he's told.

As Luhan makes his way up the bed, Sehun hits a switch on the wall and the lights dim immediately. The bed dips a little as Sehun sets a knee down on the edge – at the foot of the bed, Jongin is enraptured.

Years worth of bottled up wants and desires avalanche into the thick air of the room the moment Sehun threads graceful fingers into the hairs at the base of Luhan's neck and angles Luhan's head just right. All qualms fly out the window the second lips touch – Luhan kisses back fervently, messily, thumbs hooked into the elasticized waistband of Sehun's sweatpants. Sehun yields the slightest bit, something he doesn't usually do, and lets Luhan work the both of them raw.

Sensing a restless Jongin behind him, Sehun pulls away and thumbs absently at the wetness of Luhan's kiss-swollen lips as he looks over his shoulder.

"Have you guys done much with each other?"

Jongin shakes his head and shifts in his seat.

"The most we've done is, uh," Jongin starts, but stops and clears his throat.

"Jerked off together," Luhan finishes for him, unceremoniously tugging Sehun's face back down towards his. Sehun keeps his pelvis a safe distance away from Luhan's from where he's perfectly poised over him, and he half-expects resistance, but Luhan's surprisingly okay with it.

Sehun thinks the taste of Luhan tops anything else he's ever tasted in his life but resolutely attributes that to the wine he had earlier. When he disconnects their lips for the second time, he doesn't look at Luhan, choosing instead to reach out and pull Jongin up to him with a hand around the man's forearm.

"Make sure you don't accidentally touch one another," Sehun reminds them softly. Jongin moves his knee away from Luhan's foot and gives Luhan a timid smile – which is completely wiped off his lips the second Sehun descends on him.

"Taste that?" Sehun says, syllables mere puffs of hushed breath, between each sloppy kiss.

"Luhan," Jongin replies, equally as hushed. Spreading fingers wide across the expanse of bare skin of Sehun's back, Jongin presses closer. A few feet away, Luhan sighs.

Jongin's a lot more explosive, Sehun notes. Much like a shot of vodka compared to Luhan's glass of sparkling wine. The difference is electrifying, and Sehun willingly lets Jongin nip at his bottom lip.

Nails scrape along young skin and Jongin sighs into Sehun's mouth. A series of small tugs finally compel Jongin to struggle out of his shirt, and Sehun takes it from him, chucking it in the general direction of his own piece of discarded clothing.

Provided with a fresh canvas to draw on, Sehun dips down, tracing the tip of his tongue over the faint juts of Jongin's bones; from clavicles to the curves of ribs. Pressing hot lips against the flat of Jongin's sternum, Sehun moves the slightest bit to the side and swipes his tongue over a puckered nipple. Jongin bucks involuntarily, hips meeting Sehun's stomach, and the slight impression of Jongin's cock has Sehun reeling.

It's not as if he doesn't get his fair share of dick – in fact, more often than not, his customers are middle-aged politicians or businessmen in need of a good fuck.

But this is different.

Sehun silently asks Jongin for permission with the pad of his thumb over the button of Jongin's jeans. Jongin simply nudges his pelvis into Sehun's touch, and Sehun all but rips the pair of jeans off. Even through boxers, Sehun can already tell that Jongin's been gifted with a very impressive cock.

"You're getting hard," Sehun states simply, running a finger down Jongin's clothed length. Jongin whimpers. Leaning even further down so that he's at eye-level, Sehun pulls at the band of the boxers and slowly tugs it down trembling thighs. There's a faint sound of a zipper being unzipped, but Sehun's too distracted with Jongin's just-freed dick to pay much attention to anything else.

Suctioning lips around the head, Sehun sucks once and groans.

"And fucking delicious," he finishes. Jongin whines and his cock quivers. Sehun spares a brief glance in Luhan's direction before ducking back down and proceeding to give Jongin his first – and best – blow job of his life.

Jongin releases his load into Sehun's mouth after an embarrassingly short time, but Sehun doesn't seem to care. Giving Jongin a few moments to collect himself, Sehun shuffles over to Luhan, wraps a hand over Luhan's own from where it's circled around a reddened cock, and swipes his tongue over the seam of Luhan's lips.

"Taste your boyfriend," Sehun says, eyes glittering. Luhan licks the traces of Jongin's come off his lips and makes a pitched sound of need. Pulling Luhan's hand away from his pelvic region, Sehun takes over, easily switching between a slow, maddening pace and an equally maddening, fast one. Luhan spills over Sehun's hand and his stomach not long after – Sehun brings his stained hand up to Luhan's face.

"Lick," he instructs, and Luhan does. Once his hand is clean, Sehun leans in, coaxes Luhan's mouth open, and lets his eyes flutter shut at the taste.

"Fuck," he enunciates, pulling back. "Fuck."

He doesn't get a moment to clear his head, however, because Jongin appears behind him, wet dick pressing into his clothed ass crack. There are fingers all over the band of his sweatpants; Luhan's tugging at the front and Jongin's at the sides.

Sehun nearly falls over onto his side as they all but manhandle him out of his sweats – the front already stained with spots of pre-come. As Luhan reaches to tug at Sehun's cock, Sehun swats his hand away.

"No. I want to come in you."

Turning, he looks Jongin straight in the eye and says, "and you're coming in me."

 

 

 

  
"Don't hesitate," Sehun says, "I'm used to it. I do this for a living."

Jongin looks dazedly at his own lubed fingers. Further down the bed, Luhan's squirming in pure bliss, paying no attention whatsoever to Jongin's little dilemma. Sehun's got three fingers buried to the hilt in Luhan, and the latter's busy trying to get Sehun's attention back on him. Jongin's mouth dries at the sight and he has to fight to breathe.

"Jongin," Sehun continues. "I need this. I'm sure you can tell." He gestures to his straining dick. Jongin colours but doesn't show any sign of movement.

"Here," Sehun relents. "Put your finger right there –" he reaches behind with his free hand and lines Jongin's fingers up with his entrance. 'I'll do all the work, okay? All you have to do is hold still."

With that, Sehun moves his hips backwards, using his own hand to keep Jongin's in place.

A strained choke is emitted from somewhere within Jongin's throat the moment his finger breaches Sehun – a similar sound falls from between Sehun's lips as he basks in the feeling of being filled.

"Another one Jongin, come on."

He's already in way too deep at this point, so Jongin throws all caution to the wind and pushes two additional fingers in. Sehun did say he's used to it, right?

Sehun moans and Luhan follows right after – the puff of air lands directly on the tip of Luhan's cock, and any form of stimulation is good stimulation in Luhan's mind.

Giving Luhan's prostate a little nudge, Sehun pulls his fingers out and tugs Luhan closer to him, rearranging the two of them to the best of his ability whilst having three fingers up his ass. Swinging a leg over Luhan's hip, he uses the inside of his knee to centre him.

"Good?"

Luhan groans. From where he's standing by the foot of the bed, Jongin's knees start to tremble at the sight before him. Sehun pushes in slowly, and with every disappearing inch of his cock, Luhan's hips rise progressively off the bed. His features contort, and there are marks in the flesh of his thighs from where he's grabbing at them.

"Fuck." The syllable is guttural, a perfect complement to the blown pupils in Sehun's eyes. A pause as Luhan adjusts. "Jongin."

"Yeah," Jongin replies, breathless. "Okay."

The bed is low enough for him to penetrate Sehun without too much contortion of their bodies. The heat is mesmerising, and Jongin scratches red lines down Sehun's hips from the pleasure. Sehun can feel Jongin throb inside him, and in a brief lapse of clarity, he wonders what he's gotten himself into.

"Move," he rasps, and Jongin snaps his hips tentatively, a shaky hand on the small of Sehun's back. "Harder."

The momentum of Jongin's movements cause Sehun to rock into Luhan, and there's a collective moan of pleasure filling the heated space between their bodies.

"Jonginnie," Luhan pants, "faster. For me, okay? Faster."

Jongin replies with a strangled moan of Luhan's name. Sehun stays silent apart from the occasional grunt or moan; no names are uttered, despite being thought of.

 

 

 

  
There's a quick warning of nails digging into his hips, but Sehun doesn't have enough time to prepare himself for Jongin's release. It's hot and messy, come dribbling down the back of his thighs and into the crease of his bent knees. There's warmth on his back, and Sehun realises Jongin's chest is pressed against him, skin sticky with sweat, and there's very stable hand around his waist.

Luhan comes in erratic spurts over his own stomach, but before Sehun is given a chance to appreciate the image beneath him, Luhan's reaching up and pressing abused lips to Sehun's, fingertips delicate against his cheeks and rough against his scalp.

Sehun's own release is quiet. He bites down on the crook of Luhan's neck and tunes in to the feeling of Jongin's fingers stroking at his sides. When he's done, he pulls out, wriggles out from between the couple, and grabs a clean cloth off the stack by his bedside.

He doesn't turn back to face the pair on the bed, because judging by the sounds, they've decided to waste whatever time they have left joined at the mouth. Sehun waits, patient. He doesn't have to wait long – he counts 48 seconds before there're sounds of regretful shuffling.

"Shower's in that direction," Sehun says, turning and gesturing at the closed door. "There's another one around the corner outside. Towels are already in there. Feel free to use whatever products you see."

"Could we…" Luhan trails off.

Sehun raises an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Stay for the night?"

The surprise doesn't show on Sehun's face.

"There's a couch outside that's more than comfortable. One of you can take this bed."

With that, he's out the door, disappearing into his private bedroom for much needed time to collect himself and think about the level of damages done.

 

 

 

  
He's walking the fine line between dreams and reality when there's a soft knock on his door.

"What is it," he groans, turning over and cracking open an eye. The door handle dips, and the door swings open.

"Did I wake you?" Luhan's soft voice floats slowly over to Sehun's ears.

"No, you didn't. Did you need something?"

"I was wondering if I could sleep here for the night. I like to have something to hold in my sleep, and there's nothing to my liking."

"Are you on the couch?"

"Yeah. Jongin has a really bad back and I didn't want to aggravate it."

Figures.

"Alright. Come."

Luhan crawls into bed without so much as a second's hesitation. Slotting arms under Sehun's and winding them around a tiny torso, Luhan closes his eyes.

If this were an alternate universe, Sehun would've fallen asleep to the steady rise and fall of Luhan's chest, soothing against his own. But it isn't, and Sehun doesn't get a single wink of sleep through the night.

 

 

 

  
Luhan wakes up to neat handwriting printed on a sticky note in black ink.

_There's food in the kitchen – let yourself out whenever._  
_My secretary knows you're here. Payment isn't necessary._

_Sehun_

 

 

 

  
When Sehun returns late that night from wandering around the city aimlessly, he finds the sticky note he had stuck to the bedside table that morning on his door.

On it, underneath his script in messier handwriting, is:

_Thank you for everything._  
_We'll see you soon, maybe._

_Jongin and Luhan_

Sehun leaves the note where it is.

 

 

 

  
A month later, Sehun finally decides to return to the store, telling himself it's only because his wine stash is running out.

Of course, he bumps into Jongin, who stutters, blushes, and coughs before finally calming down enough to speak to Sehun.

"I was wondering when you'd be back."

"Why's that?"

Jongin chews on his bottom lip, and Sehun tries not to think about how incredibly cushioned they were against his own.

"Luhan wants to invite you over for dinner. Any night. Whatever works for you."

Fingers around a slim bottleneck tighten, but Sehun schools his features into one of indifference and shrugs. "I'm free tonight."

Jongin blinks, then proceeds to fumble in his pockets, eventually producing a slip of paper that he hands over to Sehun.

"Address is on there, so are our numbers. Just in case, you know, you get lost or something."

Sehun raises the slip of paper as an inclination that he's heard and pockets it. Jongin clears his throat, shuffles from foot to foot, and scratches the back of his head before finally saying something.

"Right, well. I'll see you later then?"

As soon as Sehun nods, Jongin flits away, disappearing into the canned foods aisle. Sehun walks over to the cashier silently, Jongin's flaming red cheeks seared behind his eyes.

 

 

 

  
Dinner is a casual and awkward event.

Time passes by quickly, the first bottle of wine (which Sehun had brought) draining in record time. The second bottle goes a little slower, and by the time that's empty, Sehun finds himself squished on the couch, sandwiched between the couple, Jongin snoozing away on his shoulder.

A tipsy Luhan tangles his fingers with Sehun's – Sehun nearly jostles Jongin out of shock.

"You're nice. An honest being," Luhan murmurs, voice low so as not to wake Jongin up. "But this mask of yours really bothers me."

"You shouldn't trouble yourself with that," Sehun replies, equally as quiet. "There's not much you'll be able to do about it."

"Lies," Luhan says clearly. "And you know it."

He gestures to Jongin's face. "Lies," he repeats.

"You're drunk," Sehun says flatly.

"Maybe," Luhan agrees elegantly. "But that's when people are the most truthful, are they not?"

 

 

 

Despite leaving dinner that night abruptly – the second Jongin had shifted and freed Sehun's shoulder, Sehun was out of the apartment, Luhan's eyes dark after him – Sehun finds himself back at the couple's apartment the next week.

And the week after that.

It becomes a regular event, Sehun heading over to their apartment after work every Friday. Sometimes Luhan will cook, sometimes Jongin will attempt to cook, but more often than not, it's a mix of take-out from different restaurants. Sehun doesn't mind, content with sitting back and listening to the bustle in the kitchen before food eventually appears on the table.

It's gotten oddly comfortable, how Sehun will let Jongin use his lap as a makeshift pillow, how Luhan will thread strands of Sehun's hair through his fingers as they stare at the TV screen, not really paying any attention whatsoever. It never progresses into the bedroom – their first time is to be their only time.

Sometimes Luhan will ask Sehun to pass Jongin a kiss from him and vice versa, and Sehun can't seem to bring himself to refuse. On occasion, it will delve into something deeper, something more, but Sehun will always put his foot down and everything screeches to a standstill.

There's a chronic pain in the depths of Sehun's mind, somewhere snug behind his ears, that tell him how it's quite likely that the couple is simply using Sehun as a means to satisfy their needs for intimate contact. But whenever he spends time with them, it dulls the pain into an almost inconspicuous throb, and Sehun will almost believe that they want him there because they genuinely do.

One night, when Jongin's tucked into bed (he's got finals coming up soon and is in need of good sleep), Luhan curls a hand around Sehun neck and sighs into the curve.

"What if you quit your job and stayed with us? Here? For as long as we all live?"

"Can't," Sehun says, emotionless yet much too fast. "Too much at stake."

"Such as?"

"I know too much about my clients to be able to up and leave." That's not the real reason, and they both know it.

"We both know that's not it." Sehun closes his eyes and tries not to lean into Luhan's touch.

"I'm not part of this relationship, whatever this is. I'm just a third party. A nice convenience."

Luhan's fingers still.

"No, Sehun, no."

"I've got nothing in me to give you two in return. There's no point wasting time and energy in wanting me around."

"I've never seen Jongin this animated, this happy. He was promoted at work, did you know? He's no longer the stock boy who only serves as a cashier when someone's too lazy to work. His grades are no longer haywire; they're steady, and at a constant rise. Slow, but constant. He works hard every night so when it comes to Friday, he'll have time to spend with you without worrying about the amount of homework waiting for him."

"He's just confused."

Luhan forces Sehun to look at him with hard fingers along his jaw.

"I'm different, too. I handle clients a lot better – my temper doesn't flare up as much during work, and I don't get distracted as much, either. My reports are of better quality, my computing's faster, and the people who didn't like me as much are beginning to warm up to me. My boss even smiled at me last week."

"Nothing to give," Sehun repeats and shies out of Luhan's touch.

He makes to leave, but Luhan's skin against his has him stopping in his tracks. As it always has.

"Before you go; give Jongin a kiss goodnight for me, would you?"

 

 

 

  
Inside Jongin's room, Sehun hunches down by the bedside and presses interlaced fingers to his lips. Jongin's sound asleep, lips slightly apart and the edge of the covers barely tickling his chin.

"Jongin," Sehun whispers. Oblivious, Jongin slumbers on. "I don't want to leave?"

Sehun sighs. Reaching out, he pushes a chunk of hair off Jongin's cheek and lets his fingers linger.

"But everything inside is just so hollow. All hollowed out and dusty and dark. You and Luhan are both shining lights in my life but there's only so much darkness a certain amount of light can void, you know?"

He thumbs at the soft skin underneath Jongin's eyes.

"Don't hate me okay? Use your minute wisely every day when I'm not around. You can get careless sometimes."

He rises, swallows, and leans down to brush dry lips over a warm forehead.

"Love you."

 

 

 

  
Luhan's leaning against the doorframe when Sehun turns around. His eyes are brighter than usual and Sehun feels a cluster of odd tingles behind his nasal cavity. They press up against his eyes and he's alarmed.

"I'm sorry for springing that on you," Luhan beings, regret evident in his voice. "It's just that Jongin and I have been discussing that for quite some time and it's been almost a year since we've first met, so I thought –"

"It has nothing to do with that," Sehun interrupts, nudging Luhan out of Jongin's room and shutting the door carefully behind him. "It's everything before we even met."

Picking up his coat, Sehun makes his way to the front door in the dim light of the moon.

"In our next lives," he begins, "promise me you'll come and find me." He ignores the crack in his voice and shoves his feet into his shoes, eyes fixated on the floor.

"Don't go."

There's resistance on his shirt. Sehun has no choice but to look over his shoulder.

"We love you. _I_ love you."

Prying Luhan's fingers off his shirt one by one, Sehun holds onto them gingerly as he pulls Luhan just a little closer. The following kiss is brief, barely there, but it hurts badly enough.

Releasing Luhan from his grasp, Sehun backs away, fumbling for the door handle behind his back. Opening it, he steps out into the fluorescent-lit hallway and wets his lips.

"I love you, too."

The door swings shut slowly, softly, quietly.

 

 

 

  
The Friday after that looms over the three of them like an impending thunderstorm.

Sehun doesn't turn up for dinner, and Jongin reverts to placing a pillow on Luhan's lap. The apartment's eerily silent.

 

 

 

  
The next Friday, Luhan switches on the television for much-needed noise and nearly yells when he sees Sehun's face across the screen. There are handcuffs around his wrists and nearly a week's worth of stubble on his chin.

The headline flashing on the bottom of the screen reads:

**High-Class Male Escort Arrested For Leaking Sordid Details of High Profile Clients**

 

 

 

  
"Why did you do it?" The talk show host asks.

Sehun sits across from her, dressed in prison garb and wrists still in handcuffs. He shrugs.

"I realised I had lost everything I had to lose a long, long time ago. All that information was nothing compared to what I once had in myself."

He refuses to say any more on the issue.

 

 

 

  
**'Timeless' Escort To Receive The Death Penalty** , the newspaper headline reads.

 

 

 

  
"Any last words?"

Sehun's gaze is still as strong as ever as he fixes his eyes on the camera that's right in his line of view.

"I'll see you two again, I promise."

**Author's Note:**

> Damn, re-reading this just shows me how much I improved lmao /cringes
> 
> [Click for Links!](https://bluedveins.wixsite.com/evoxine)


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